Welcome to the Whiskey Rebel's Diary
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Archive: from 8/01/01 to 8/30/01
8/30
Billpoint and Ebay are pushing me over the edge...if I'm not at the Supershow in Austin next weekend, this is a public glimpse into my life of hell and an explanation of sorts. Let 'em chisel on my tombstone the following epitaph: "he was raped by a computer". This is the 3rd letter JUST THIS WEEK to those rotten fucks. Right now suicidal-urge ducks are quacking away in my brain. I really am hearing things...my stomach hurts..my head hurts. This entry is about as "real" as it gets folks...
I hope this isn't goodbye...but if it is at least you all got to witness my last stand...REB
"Dear Ebay a.k.a Billpoint:
This is the 3rd time this week my Wife and I have tried to contact you concerning the fact that "billpoint" has seen fit to tap into our bank account..even though: (for the dozen'th time I repeat this..) WE DON'T HAVE A BILLPOINT ACCOUNT!!).
For weeks I dealt with a problem wherein Ebay posted a totally false "pay with billpoint" icon on my Ebay auctions..even though (here we go again..) WE DON'T HAVE A BILLPOINT ACCOUNT!!
After weeks of being driven half crazy by winning bidders who justifiably were confused at the very least (a couple accused me of being a downright liar) while all the while trying to breakthrough Billpoint's inpenetrable "customer service" system I finally..FINALLY received a couple responses from Ebay apologizing for the computer "default" glitch that caused the whole mess.
I thought the worst of it was over.
Monday I received a "courtesy" warning that billpoint was going to tap our personal bank account for $141.50.
WHAT????
I REPEAT..WE DON'T HAVE a billpoint account.
We once applied for a billpoint account...before it had ever been used we were warned by friends that it was a poor move..that they had heard horror stories from a security/confidentiality standpoint. So, without ever using the account we closed it.
The ebay "customer service" emails we received admitting to the "default glitch" agreed with us..the account was closed on 6/5/00. Well over a year ago.
Which left me quite angry when billpoint emailed us a few days ago to grant us a "courtesy" warning that they intended to debit money out of our account.
We filed TWO complaints immediately with Billpoint, and have obtained an affadavit from our bank that we are completing to DENY billpoint's unauthorized withdrawal.
We've been patiently waiting for Billpoint to respond to our email complaints; until an hour ago when I received another "courtesy" notice that billpoint wants to tap into our account again.
What does it take to get a human being at Ebay/Billpoint to straighten out this mess??????
I've paid several thousands of dollars in fees over the last 2 1/2 years to Ebay..isn't that enough?? My Wife and I are quarelling over this..I've spent dozens of hours agonizing over it..I'm very, very depressed as I sit and look at this page and realize that it's all so stupid. WE DON'T HAVE a BILLPOINT ACCOUNT!! Ebay agrees with us!! It's a case of a computer system run amok.
This situation is pushing me to the very brink of my endurance. When some computer can tap into our bank account at will, I feel helpless..RAPED by a computer. I've heard stories of people caught up in messes like this. NO WONDER WE WERE WARNED NOT TO OPEN A BILLPOINT ACCOUNT!
Some part of me still hopes for a happy, peaceable ending to this mess. I know a lot of people would go running to an attorney over this. I want to go back to the way life was before the "default glitch" took place. I was fairly happy then...my Wife and I weren't fighting and I felt that my bank account was secure.
PLEASE!!! I'm begging!! Can't you Ebay/billpoint folks end my month of hell??? PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE!!!!!!
Phil Irwin
8/28
Busy day..busy night. We practiced again tonight for the C.O.S. supershow. It went pretty good. I think back often to the times when we practiced 3 times a week...hell, we practiced EVERYDAY for our pre-Rancid Vat band the Spaztics. I get a lot more done these days compared to back then. A couple hours out of my schedule means alot now, although it didn't in 1980 or 1990.
I think most of our pals in other bands practice alot like we used to. We've been moving in slow motion for a couple years musically. Of course I'm sure some of our enemies..and some of our back stabbing enemies who appear to be friends have buried us in their minds. They don't know that the secret to longevity with a band is setting a pace that you can comfortably live up to. We're storing up energy and will bounce back and record a pile of stuff and play a lot of shows live when the time is right.
When I say "we" and "we're" I mean Marla and I. The other guys we're playing with have other projects that they're involved in. They seem gung-ho but I think they are as convinced sometimes as our enemies that we've slowed down for good. Not yet guys.
Ebay's billing system "billpoint" has pulled a fast one on us; we don't HAVE an account with billpoint. But 3 weeks ago they erroneously posted add's on my ebay auction pages inviting customers to "click here" to pay the seller (me) with a billpoint invoice. They've admitted their mistake twice after weeks of battling their automated-reply email monster. Now, they've somehow managed to fucking penetrate our BANK ACCOUNT!! They succeeded in withdrawing $141.50 that they say they credited us! WHAT???
ALL THIS..without our permission! AGAIN, we don't even have an account!! We applied for a billpoint account 14 months ago..and closed it the next day. Ebay has confirmed to us that the account was indeed closed on 6/5/00. But, somehow they've found a way to tap into our bank account as if I was one of their customers!
We picked up an affidavit at our bank today that we'll have notarized tomorrow. What a fucking nightmare.
I can't wait until it finally dawns on a human being employee for billpoint that they've penetrated the bank account of a non customer. I have to wait though...it's IMPOSSIBLE to reach a human being at Ebay without waiting a couple days.
I'm reading a damned good Erskine Caldwell book "summertime Island". Even though the title sounds a Hardy Boys or Nancy Drew story it's actually a tale of blatant racism, lust and violence during a fishing trip. He's one of the true great's. He's also one of the few authors I'm frigging tickled pink by who has written a stack of books I haven't read.
I'm on about page 500 of the U.S. Grant biography. A couple hundred to go. My toilet book for 3 months has been a great book Reverend Axl Future pulled my coat to; it's a historical account with humorous sidebars concerning the seedy side of N.Y.C. ranging from the 1600's to the early 1900's. Slums, whores, gamblers, gangs (that put today's gangs to shame) pimps, crooked politicians, crooked cops, etc. I've been savoring it a few pages at a time.
The one really great thing that happened today was Geoff and Kathleine turning over one of two promo copies they managed to receive of the new Wayne Hancock CD. They've proven once again why they are great friends. You know what? It's enough to keep me going for awhile..not only Mr. Hancock's fine music, but the fact that somebody gives a damn enough to think of me. Oddly enough, we took the time to record and send a cassette to another good friend a few days ago who wanted it and has gone through some hard times recently. We didn't expect or ask for anything in return. I don't believe in "karma"..but this would be an example of it in action if I did. The friend I sent the cassette to has sent G&K and me lots of stuff in the past. If you find yourself included in loops like this, take care of the people involved. I'm way behind on writing to alot of people right now, but that doesn't change the fact that the world is filled with 99% total fucking assholes. It's a BAD BAD BAD BAD species..but REMEMBER there's that 1% that makes it all worthwhile.
I'm not going to either cry or jeer over the death of Aailiyah (sp?). Hearing about her demise reminded me of my first day at Tower Records. She had a new release out..and customers kept calling on the telephone about it. I had never heard of her, and couldn't figure out how to spell her name; therefore, I concluded we didn't have her goddamned CD that they kept bugging me about. Tower has a computer alpha search in it's registers that makes it easy for employee-junkies who can't spell at all to look up releases. I would have found it..except for the goofy way her name was spelled. I cost her probably 7 or 8 sales before somebody straightened me out. Oh well, obviously they didn't need me to move millions of units of her stuff. I'm sure her handlers will be enjoying a huge upswing in sales as a result of her becoming the latest dead singer.
By the way..the word "Diva" is of course the most overused hype-word in the music biz today. I wanna blow beet's whenever I hear it. I also wanna heave when I hear Madonna described as a "genius"...a savvy trendjumper, yeah..but "genius"?
Now Sonny Bono..THERE was a genius.
It's 5:00 a.m. and there's not a drop of whiskey in the house. I'm down to 2 1/2 tallboy's of Pabst blue ribbon and a half-pint of clear Bacardi. I hope I make it through the night...where's that Wayne Hancock CD??
8/27
A few years ago I rode along with a friend and a friend of my friend to a wrestling match about 120 miles or so away. The card itself was great. Terry Funk and Abdullah the Butcher headlined along with a cast of lesser known guys. No regrets about the matches ever entered my mind.
It was a fucking hellish experience though due to the fact that I couldn't stand the way that my friend's friend drove. In a nutshell, he's a total asshole driver. He drives pretty damn fast which in itself doesn't bother me. If you've got some open road, more power to you. This guy expected everybody on the road to get out of his way! During peak driving hours he'd get on the tail of the car in the left lane on the interstate freeway and deliberately see how close he could get..to intimidate the driver into pulling over out of his way. He'd be 5 feet from somebody's bumper with only the heel of a hand guiding the steering wheel..his other hand holding a cigar sized joint. He'd be cursing a fucking blue streak at the driver in front of him out of the corner of his mouth while holding in a massive hit of weed.
"You fucking JAGOFF!!" He'd scream in frustration at some driver who was clogging up the lane by driving only 75 in a 55 mile per hour zone.
He'd turn to my friend who was riding shotgun and passing the massive joints back and forth with him and actually look him in the eye for several seconds while shaking his head in frustration. When he did this, he wasn't looking at the road AT ALL. The slightest crisis in front of us would mean a bigass accident.
Sitting in the backseat I was terrified. If the driver in front of us even tapped on the brakes while this peckerhead was looking our mutual friend in the passenger seat in the eye for effect, we'd be dead. DEAD.
When a driver in front of him ignored his tailgating he'd get frustrated like a big fucking baby. "FUG THIS ASSHOLE!!" He'd bellow shaking his head as if the driver in front of him had totally taken leave of his senses. A driver following every rule of the road would be cursed thanks to the dickhead's warped judgement as a senseless imbecile. In reality, if he peered closely into the rearview mirror he'd see the REAL ASSHOLE.
At one point he got right on the bumper of some old guy driving a German import. His Wife road by his side and another very elderly couple were in the back seat. We were tailing the car so close I could see individual hairs on their heads. It was night..and the dickhead started flashing his high beams on and off; his intention was to communicate his wishes that he wanted to get past him. But how do you know how a 75 year old guy is going to react?? He began to slow down obviously in sheer terror..and the passengers in the back seat turned around and looked at us shocked at the insane lunatic that was tailgating them. I couldn't have blamed the poor old guy if he was so busy looking at the dickhead in his rear-view mirror, that he ran into somebody in front of him. If that happened, we'd be fucking dead. DEAD.
I asked the dickhead point blank once why he didn't back the fuck off.
"Fuck man..I know what I'm doing!! I've totaled 5 cars..and walked away every time!!"
He was serious. He wasn't joking. He was proud of his driving record because HE had managed to walk away from all the accidents he had caused.
My friend smiled and chuckled. He wasn't upset in any way. he thought it was cool to risk death like that.
I gave up and resigned myself to the fact that I would NEVER have anything to do with either one of these guys again if an automobile was involved. I never have.
The dickhead was a great guy to attend a wrestling card with. I sincerely liked him. But behind the wheel of a car he was like so many shithead drivers I've shaken my fist at over the years that I was amazed. I know, I know. I can hear some people reading this saying "the Whiskey Rebel must drive like a fucking pussy".
It's all a matter of perspective. I have passengers who think I drive like a wreckless maniac...and passengers who think I'm a pussy because I keep it down to 65-70 mph in a 55 mph zone. We ALL think each other drives like shit. Some of my best friends might be on the receiving end of a clench fisted "YOU FUCKING ASSHOLE!" snarl from me if I encountered them on the road unaware that the dumbass behind the wheel was them. It's not something that will ever change..it's just the way it is. And as Stonecold would say..THAT'S the bottom line. Somebody reading this might have me in their car one day. They might remember what I'm writing here, and drive slowly so as to please me. You know what?? I could windup going full circle and get pissed off at their driving like a candyass!
My Wife has related behind the back criticism's of my driving by passengers I was nice enough to transport...usually for free. I can't make any sense of it at all. No matter how I drive I'm not gonna please everybody. So, I drive how I want to and try to weed out as many passengers who'll be riding with me as possible.
The days are long gone when I'll commit to riding anywhere with a driver whose skills I haven't checked out.
I've felt suicidal many times in my life; it's an on going on and off thing really. But I want to CHOOSE the time that I go. When I do decide it's time to checkout, I'll use a more peaceful method (drowning? heroin O.D.?) than winding up as road pizza from a chain-reaction wreck on the highway.
8/24
I just finished reading Ralph Emery's two books on his life as numero uno overnight country music DJ in Nashville and more recently host of TNN's NASHVILLE NOW. I'm a big fan of autobiographies and biographies. I halfway expected perhaps due to his smooth professional on-stage style that he might hold back a bit when relating anecdotes about country music legends. On the contrary, he revealed the "human" sides of a lot of great legends while still respecting their great talents.
I had heard that Red Foley (who recorded stacks of gospel albums) was a crazyass wild spree drinker, and Ralph confirmed it with a few stories. I'm as big a Johnny Paycheck fan as you're gonna find and I certainly am not disgusted or disillusioned to read that Paycheck behaved like a nervous ferral animal on Emery's show. Drugs and alcohol undoubtedly hurt Johnny's career in ways in the long run, but in the short run just like George Jones and many others they made him more exciting than the straight-shooting non-substance abusing "hunks" that rule the charts these days. When your personal life is living hell it can make for some great songs!
I was surprised though what Emery revealed about Roy Acuff. Now first off, I respect the late great Roy's talents quite a bit. I have a CD of his best known hits and several albums too. I've never considered him one of my "personal favorites" shall we say. Roy came along only a few years after Jimmy Rodgers who IS one of my alltime favorites. For those of you too hungup on enema-M and P-doodoo Jimmy Rodgers was the first really successful country recording artist ever. He was a two-fisted guy who worked for the railroad based out of his home state of Mississippi.
(Imagine my shock upon learning that my pal's from the great band "Before I Hang" based out of Hattiesburg Ms. knew less than I DID about Jimmy the Kid!!).
Jimmy was forced to five up working for the railroad due to a terminal case of tuberculosis. He went to work as a singer to make a few bucks, and wound up a huge star. Jimmy's songs have been recorded hundreds of times by every country artist you can name. Merle Haggard did a DOUBLE tribute album to him for instance. Johnny Cash, D.A.C., everybody has done his songs. Rock bands ranging from the CRAMPS to an old band of mine..HOGWILD have covered him. Clint Eastwood did a movie very loosely based on aspects of his life.
Jimmy recorded until the bitter end to provide $$$ for his wife and daughter. They literally rolled a cot into the recording studio for him to rest up on between takes. The final sessions weren't sloppy though, they were as good as anything he ever did. He learned to play watching black bluesmen, and his style was much like theirs. He had a large black following according to accounts from back in the day. One of my favorite songs of his is "blue eyed Jane" which he recorded with black musicians including a very young Louis Armstrong. The women he wrote about in songs were saucy, flirtatious and modern compared to alot of the old fashioned, sappy songs that were sold as sheet music back then.
Jimmy drank and loved to have a good time.
Roy Acuff was a devout Christian..a bit of a square compared to Jimmy. He and Jimmy crossed paths way back when..although it wasn't 'til years after Jimmy died that Roy became famous.
Ralph brought a very old Roy Acuff in his final days onto TNN to talk about Jimmy during a special show saluting him as the Grandaddy of country music. After a lot of touching filmed salutations Emery turned to Roy who was seated next to his best friend...the legendary Minnie Pearl.
And guess what?? Right there in front of millions and millions of viewers Acuff stubbornly refused to say anything good about Rodgers. He was jealous of all the accolades going to a rival legend. Minnie and Ralph urged him several times to say something nice, but Roy kept snubbing Jimmy over and over; he even went so far as to state that Rodgers wasn't even remembered in his own hometown or meridian Mississippi (bullshit! there's a great museum to visit!).
Ralph discretely looked at his wristwatch and thanked Roy for his time. Roy Acuff was the ruling power behind the Grand ol' opry for decades. It was ROY ACUFF that refused to allow drums onstage well into the 60's. It was ROY ACUFF who tried to browbeat disc jockeys into not playing "non-opry" mavericks such as Buck Owens and Hank Thompson. Since he held so much power he probably was responsible along with his crony Jim Denny for sending a young Elvis Presley away from the opry in tears after his audition. They told him to go back to driving a truck.
King Elvis made them eat their fucking words; he practically put them out of business single-handedly.
I had never heard about Roy Acuff be-smirching one of my absolute favorite singers of all time to a national audience. You know what?? FUCK Roy Acuff. It's just another example of a supposed clean living holy-Joe Christian acting like a total fucking dick.
I never heard the FENDERMEN (who had a great, huge mega-hit with Jimmy's "Muleskinner's Blues") cover a goddamn Roy Acuff tune, and guess what?? you'll never hear me cover one either now that I've heard the truth from Ralph. You can dig up the jealous old bastard's bones and ram the fucking "Wabash cannonball" or a frigging HARPOON up his hairy old maggotmeal skeleton ass for all I care. I'll keep a CD of his stuff, but his albums are going up on Ebay pronto.
8/23
Ladies, unfortunately for you, I'm already spoken for. I've been living with the same women since I was 19 years old. I'm perfectly satisfied with the way that things are. Being married for so long has solved a potentially huge problem as far as I'm concerned. Even though many of you would be thrilled to change places with her I gotta admit there are a few things that you will need to adjust to. Just for fun, lets pretend that Marla gets hit by lightning tomorrow...or frankly just tires of my attributes in the same way that you eventually get your fill of candy working at the candy store.
If you were going to be the next Mrs. Rebel, well...let's get one thing straight right off. I wouldn't be content for you to be a second banana known as "Mrs. Rebel". I want you to have your own goals..your own life..your own reason to exist besides me. I'll be pleased as hell if you wanna bust your ass cooking a fine meal..but, don't feel like you have to do it all the time. I'm not Fred Flintstone. I'd rather that you be happy and pursuing some sort of interest or other rather than focus on me exclusively.
That brings up a touchy problem. A lot of Wives and girlfriends I've run across over the years suffocate their men. Ladies, you've GOT to give your man a night off from being with you...I'm understating this..I really mean LOTS of nights away from you. Now, I'm NOT preaching a double standard here. Likewise, you've gotta TAKE the time that you need away from your man to do what you want to do.
I'm guaranteeing you this...and this is for both you women AND the fella's too. Your relationship is JIVE..and it WILL NOT SURVIVE with a partner that can't let go of you on a basis that pleases you both. You may as well enjoy all the hot sex you can while it lasts, because your relationship is doomed.
If the two of you work together or operate a business together...then you REALLY need to get away from each other.
Been married for a few years?? It's time to take a week or two of vacation away from each other. DON'T consider it a "negative" thing..it's mandatory for your mental health to have a break from one another now and then. If you put it off until you are stressed out by too much constant contact..the relationship is DOOMED.
Let's shift gears.
I know alot of you women would be happy as hell to have a sweet, thoughtful, wise man like me. I'm so tolerant and generous and loving and kind, etc.
But guess what?? Even I'm not perfect.
Being "Mrs. Rebel" means that the house is gonna be occasionally littered with empty bottles. Say, about 12 days out of 14. Also, I keep nocturnal hours. I'm a NIGHT ANIMAL baby. And honey you better be ready to listen to your Billy Joel or Sade or Madonna or Aailiyah (sp?) CD's on those occasions we are apart. You CAN look forward to a variety of musical sounds ranging from Webb Pierce and Johnny Paycheck to Antiseen and Motorhead. Hasil Adkins, Billy Lee Riley, Jayne County...and classical music sometimes on the radio when I nap. Expect to see plenty of books around. I read from 2 to 5 per week.
Also, realize the sacred alter of pro-wrestling!! I don't care if you go somewhere else when "RAW" or a pay-per-view is televised. Realize that it's a HUGE priority to me that I feel must be a regular part of my own life. you MUST learn to deal with it without feeling jealous some how.
Perhaps the biggest adjustment that any woman attempting to replace my current sweetie would deal with is a non-stop itinerary of thrift stores. If that tickles you..well, you're in luck. In my book, everyday over morning coffee (which I prefer to ham and eggs or any other heavy stuff) it's customary to discuss not "IF" some thrift stores will be visited..but WHICH ONES.
As far as whether I'm gonna get along with your family..
Well, it all depends if they're gonna be dickheads that want to run my life. If they are tolerant of my ways I'll try hard to tolerate them.
Now, schtick aside...I realize I'm not a goddamned Chippendale dude or "hunk". I'm a plain looking guy with a beergut and a philosopher's mighty brain. So, you don't need to be an anorexic fashion model. Your race, age, and physical dimensions are negotiable.
Well, it's time to come back to earth. Marla HASN'T been hit by a bolt of lightning. And in all likelyhood she'll bury me long before she goes. But ladies, wasn't it fun to fantasize for a moment on what it'd be like to be my constant companion....HHMMM????
8/21
Hell, I had planned to rip into the "X-Games" that are being held at one of the arena's a couple miles from here; the problem is, I just can't seem to get that upset at 'em. We tried to utilize Roosevelt park across the road from it twice over the last few days and have had to leave due to the crowds of people using it for a parking lot. We drove past a long line of marks ready to pay their way in on Sunday..but they didn't look any dumber or fisheyed than a basketball crowd would, to be honest. Well, there's still a few days left for me to get good and pissed.
Actually, I read an impressive remark by Tony Hawk in the local paper. He pointed out that bowlers and surfers earn alot more money than "X GAMES" participants..yet the interest in those sports is nowhere as high. The winning skateboard trick earns the winner a puny $20,000...the 11th place finisher (they all pay their own expenses) earns zip..ZERO. Obviously COMCAST is fucking these guys over.
I've never mounted a fucking skateboard in my life. I can't ice-skate at all..never could even when I was skinny. I used to roller skate way back when..in a rink that featured pipe organ music and nightly roller derby calibre fights. I guess that's pretty antiquated now. I'm not really interested in "sports" that involve rapid or squiggley motion in combination with an adult toy. Snowmobiles?? no thanks; Water Skiing?? take Marla..she loves it. Snow skiing?? you gotta be kidding! Wind surfing?? it looks like a lot of damn work to me, but if you're into it what the hell. I don't feel exhilarated after getting dizzy riding any motorized contraption or aqua-vehicle. I JUST FEEL DIZZY.
Bottom line is, I DON'T LIKE feeling dizzy.
And I DRINK for my exhilaration.
I've known A LOT of skateboarders over the years including a few loyal bandmembers. They fucking enjoy it..and isn't that what life is about??
I'm sorry if this diary doesn't live up to the typical "everything sucks" criteria that some other writer's cloak themselves in. The TRUTH to me is, if you ENJOY IT..you better DO IT. That goes for Christians, people who get off on sex with their pets, league bowlers, stamp collectors and Billy Joel fans. If you cross the line into other peoples territory (pedophiles take note!) they may feel a need to kick your motherfucking ass or better yet kill you. Or, society may slap you behind bars. But, it's your life..and even though our interests may conflict someday..on principle I can't blame you for trying.
Er, Lets get back to skateboards.
One thing that really annoys me about them is the cliche eyes-glazed-over permanently stoned Californian "Neo-Ninja-turtle" accent so many of them seem to fall into (so do alot of surfers from what I can tell). But, what the hell...I've only met one "pro". He didn't talk that way. He bought the WHISKEY REBEL beers in fact; LOT'S of skaters have bought me beers over the years..I'm not gonna stick the knife in their backs now.
For all I care, they can disband the fucking Christianity saturated NFL and make skateparks out of their stadiums. I'd rather see skaters earn big bucks than all those endzone prayer loving morons anyday.
8/20
I'm busy finishing off book #3. Rather than stop for a diary entry here's a sample excerpt from book #2. By the way, even though it seems like nothing that cool could ever really happen, it did. Every word is true. Enjoy it...and send it to all your publisher friends. Tell 'em the Reb's next two books are up for grabs..and that they better get in touch fast.
"McNally had abolutely almost NO USE for stoners...except as a source of amusement. He hated their music..their little pot smoking induced "heh heh..heh heh" laughter..and their 70's hairdo's. They seemed to enjoying being stupid. They lived for experiences that were "spacy"....such as getting stoned in somebodies halfassed musclecar while listening to "Dark side of the moon" by Pink Floyd..or perhaps "radar love" by Golden earring.
McNally alternated between being disgusted and pissed off at stoners to outright laughing at them at other times.
I worked at Sears with a stoner named Kyle who so typified the stoner lifestyle that Mike became sort of fascinated with him. I told Kyle about the place that we liked to drink at Washington park. One night Kyle drove up there in his beat to shit jacked-up orange Dodge with big wide letter tires. I had told Mike that Kyle was a friendly stoner that he would like to meet. Mike pretended to like him..so they hit it off pretty good. Kyle talked endlessly about his plans for keggers he was going to in the next few days and bands he was going to see. McNally kept a straight face and laughed for a half hour after Kyle left...with a Deep Purple 8 track blaring from his car stereo speakers.
I had a little bit more patience for Kyle; and of course unlike McNally I liked to smoke pot. But I definetly wasn't into all the stoner trappings. I never walked around eyes heavy and droopy from too many bonghits. I didn't talk like a stoner either.
When McNally and I were driving around and we saw a stoner-mobile with a car stereo blaring Robin Trower or Ted Nugent we'd usually laugh our asses off.
On the other hand, we had NO USE for hippies at all. Mike would always start shit with somebody wearing earthshoes. I didn't instigate trouble with hippies in public like Mike did..he'd start flicking shit at a stranger for what they were wearing. But on the other hand, I was in his corner. I wouldn't try to shut him up..and I definetly didn't defend anybody from him even when he was clearly just in a state of bad temper.
If I started up with anybody it would be christians preaching in the park..who McNally tended to ignore.
We hated jocks too of course..but they weren't too easy to pick on since they tended to travel in packs looking for weirdo's like us to fuck with in the first place.
One night Mike, Evan and I were cruising Broadway street in Portland. This was back in the days when cruisers used to drive up and down Broadway and fifth streets between Burnside and Portland State University or so. This was a long running tradition..just like down in Modesto California which was the inspiration for the movie "American grafitti". Hell, LOT's of towns and cities of all sizes had a cruising ritual on Friday and Saturday night.
When I cruised Broadway with other friends it was more or less under the naive illusion that we were going to pick up chicks...but of course that rarely worked out. When I cruised with Mike and Evan it was for sheer excitement and the opportunity to look at cars.
Anyway, this particular night traffic about 11:00 or so traffic was crawling at a snails pace. Usually only a few cars managed to make it through a traffic light before it changed again. It created a situation where you usually talked to people driving alongside you.
A blue chevy pulled up along side us. A guy about 19 leaned out of the car and started needling us..
"Hey faggot! hey pussy! hey fucking faggot..listen to me! You wanna get your ass kicked??" a wad of spit blew onto Evan's windshield..
All three of us turned and checked out the car the guy was riding in. It was a two door Impala..and there were five guys in it. All of them a least a couple years older than us.
We sort of looked at each other and didn't say a word. McNally had a BIG fucking mouth..but he was smart. At least he was usually smart enough to avoid being baited into an asskicking from 5 bigger, older guys. We just sat there and took it preferring they find somebody else down the road to fight.
"HEY! you guys are fucking faggots! I wanna see you suck each other off..I'm gonna come kick your asses.."
Well, we doubted that. We had the sense to realize that the best thing to do was to just stay in our car and wait it out.
"FUCKING FAGGOTS!" a beer can landed in the back seat with me..
But then the light changed..and the driver of the Impala goosed his car up Broadway several lengths. Evan just held his car back..playing it cool. We weren't going to run from those guys..but there was no sense taking an asswhipping for nothing.
"Motherfuckers!" McNally mumbled under his breath.
We could see the same guy hanging out of the car up ahead giving shit to a couple preppy looking guys with their girlfriends.
"faggots..pussies"....blah blah blah blah...
The street was pretty quiet except for the toughguy giving people shit in other cars. Obviously everybody within hearing distance on Broadway knew what was going on. We made it down another block or two..and all of a sudden we heard a car door slam.
Up ahead a couple guys stopped at the red light next to the Impala hopped out of their car. They were fucking HUGE! a couple of goddamned mooses. They had closely cropped hair and broadshouldered builds. Undoubtedly a couple of football players...BIG fucking football players. They each took one side of the Impala and started pulling bodies out like they were rag dolls.
First the guy with the big mouth was pulled out by the front of his coat..SMACK! He took one right in the mouth..and the moose that punched him tossed him aside were he fell flat out on the concrete.
A cheer rose up from 50 cars! Everybody was delighted to see justice meted out to the carload of shit talkers.
The guys in the backseat were literally PULLED OUT through the windows and pummeled. It sounded like beefsteaks being tenderized with axe handles as the fists of the two giants connected. They went down to the ground and stayed there..stretched out. The driver tried to put the car in gear..but..TOO LATE. Moose #2 was bashing him face first into the steering wheel. He reached in and shutoff the car engine..and dragged the would-be toughguy who was already bleeding from the nose out the window by his throat.
The crowd around the car was ecstatic by now. Some people had climbed on top of their cars to get a better look. After the last guy was dragged out of the car and layed out on the asphalt, the guy riding shotgun..the big mouth who had been punched out first got back to his feet to make a desperate stand. This time much to our amusement he went into a hokey looking martial arts stance.
HOW FUCKING PREDICTABLE!
Moose #1 just shook his head..he waited until the guy waggled a lame kick..stepped in and grabbed the guy by the scruff of the neck. He dragged him back over to the front of the car..and planted the fuckers face right flush into the hood. The guy went over like a sack of potatoes..obviously unconscious.
The other guys were either in la-la land or faking it damn well.
Moose #1 and Moose #2 climbed back into their little sports car and took advantage of a break in the clogged condition of the street to take off. People kept cheering for a full two minutes.
All three of us agreed it was the coolest thing we had ever seen in our lives. A quarter century along..I still haven't seen anything that even comes close".
8/18
My old man was chock full of Southern one-liners having been brought up in Missouri. "Go piss up a yogi rope!" was a good one. "He's so dumb he couldn't pour piss out of a boot!" was another good one. A slightly more constructive bit of advice was the familiar saying "when the going gets tough..the tough get going".
He would've been partially proud of my efforts yesterday. I determined upon awakening I would finish the first draft of my 2nd novel length masterpiece. I kept icing up my elbow like so many baseball players since I recently learned how to do it properly. I finished it after 12 or so hours of work. I say he'd be "partially" proud because he might be pissed off at some of the stuff written about him.
I'm still fishing around for the title which is strange since that's always been my specialty. Song titles, album titles, etc.
As crazy as it sounds I've decided to also complete the first draft of a much shorter piece that is about 70% finished. I'm gonna finish the goddamned first draft eventually after I get up tomorrow. It's probably as long as most of the small publisher books I've seen at book stores. It covers the strange West to East migration we underwent back in 1994 when we left "progressive" (HAH!) Portland to move here to good old Hostile city. It covers the move itself...which is a tale of woe and misery that I think alot of people can identify with. It also goes into the other angles that were opened up when we decided to move. We were treated like SHIT..and warned of all sorts of hysterical dangers facing us by people who've rarely left their home state. I'm the butt of jokes and asshole in this story. The climax is probably when I almost died of a panic attack at Mount Rushmore.
With both first drafts done I'll switch to a more critical mindset looking for weak spots as I assemble chapters out of temporary 1/2 page to 10 page chunks.
I don't know how other people put books together. I managed (with of course great help from editor Lesley Goldman) to sequence a 342 pager..so it should be simple. I only took up this writing crap a few years ago, so it's a new process that surprises me sometimes; HELL..I never expected to complete 2 literary classics at the same time..but that's the way it's gonna be.
About 6 months ago I spent an hour dabbling with fiction. The charachter (I'm sure they'll both be pleased to know) is sort of a composite of the Cosmic Commander of Wrestling and my wrestler/genius pal Rev. Axl Future. I was pleased with the result. On one of the worst days of my life about a year ago I was so upset I layed drunk across a motel bed and agonizingly dictated to Elvis an outline for a book of short stories...what I consider to be REAL LIFE "horror" stories as opposed to the crap that the masses believe is scary. It's 80% fiction 20% autobiographical I estimate. I spent another hour a couple months ago starting one of the stories. It went well.
Fortunately I've read SO GODDAMNED MANY BOOKS over the years...an incredible wide variety. There's a "classics" section at Philly's central library...I guess I've read about 1/3rd of it. Remember, as a child genius I was reading Mark Twain and the Bronte's and Robert Louis Stevenson when I was 4. I didn't totally comprehend what was going on, but I got off to a fast start. I went on to military history books, biographies (my favorite books to read), Tolstoy, Steinbeck, etc. I experimented with pulp fiction when I was 13...I found a book version of "moonshine mountain" back then! I've gone on to read huge series of books..ALL 75 or so "Michael Shayne" private eye books, the 25 or so Shell Scott's I could find, the incredible "Executioner" series (I got up to #100) 100 or so volumes of the fantastic "Destroyer" series by Warren Murphy (who is one of the greatest writers ever in my book) and all of his other books, the huge complete works of John McDonald, Jim Thompson's 20 or so that I have found, "The Fountainhead" and "Atlas Shrugged" a couple times each, all of Sinclair Lewis's novels, 5 or 6 biographies each on military leaders such as Hitler, U.S. Grant, etc..200 or so musical and showbiz biographies, a couple hundred at the very least 1950's-1960's action/suspense paperbacks by authors who ammassed a smaller volume of work than some of the above writers, a couple hundred or so Sci-fi novels and short story collections (my fave is Philip K. Dick), the complete works of Bukowski, Uncle Anton from the church of Satan and the handful of books dealing with THE TRUTH (such as Jim Goad's) up to their mighty level, a couple hundred or so "True crime" books, 60 or so Louis L'amour titles, 100 or so chess books,..etc,etc,etc.
I must be insane to read so much. But, I've managed to appear on 60 or so records and Cd's, drink an ocean of beer and a swimming pool of whiskey, play hundreds of live shows, win 22 chess trophies, work for a quarter century straight at demanding crappy jobs, have sex with my Wife for a quarter century, raise a 16 year old genius and watch enough sick and silly TV and movies so that my video tape collection is larger than my record collection or our accumulated furniture in this house. I've visited 40+ States of the Union and several European countries.
I'm getting carried away..the point is, gee I FUCKING GUESS I can bang out some fiction if I put my mind to it. Hopefully, this new ice-treatment utilizing a bag of birdseye frozen vegetables will enable me to write all I want..until I get sick of it and go back to competitive chess as I've considered recently. Uurrppp.....I'm drinking shots of EZRA and bottles of BUSH and LABATTS. Gotta go downstairs to watch a "Green Acres" marathon with Elvis.
8/15
Wife, Son and I just got back from a quick trip up to Niagara Falls. We stayed on the Canadian side at Elvis's urging, even though I expected that most "activity" would take place on the US side. I mean, we American's are the ultimate commercial minded assholes who exploit natural wonders for every last dime we can squeeze out of them..right??
Not in this case. The Canadian side was jam packed with tourists from all over the world. We peered over at the lonely folks in the park on the American side; in this case, Canada has topped the U.S. when it comes to creating a carnival atmosphere devoted to the almighty BUCK on their respective sides of the river. The "Maid of the mist" boats operate from both sides; the Canadian vessels were jam packed..the American ships were 3/4th's empty.
Don't get me wrong, I had a great time and all...but the businesses on the Canadian side seem to have free reign to exploit tourists. Signs are laughably deceptive. Rules are geared towards burning consumers. For instance, in the U.S. if you make a motel/hotel reservation you can cancel out without penalty within 24 hours. In Canada it's 48; plus there isn't an "honesty" notice posting the rates of the room to the door. In American motels its been standard for my entire lifetime. In Canada we didn't see it. When we arrived to check in at the motel office we were faced with a scene I'd expect to see in pre-revolution Russia..a HUGE line of people waiting in line to check in. Over the motel desk was a bossy "don't disturb me" sign that I imagine is meant to protect the clerk from abuse over the long lines. I've lived in motels in the U.S. for weeks and weeks at a time for years..and I've NEVER seen anything like that. Oh yeah...when we checked in we were instructed that the motel had the "right" to charge an entire extra day penalty fee ($100!!) even if you check out just ONE minute late; it specify's ONE MINUTE! In the U.S. you are almost always cut some slack..a lot of hotel's even offer an overstay fee that is usually reasonable.
Tourists are taking a rumping without vaseline in Canada. The goddamned Denny's across the street charged (get ready Denny's fans) $12.49 AMERICAN currency for its "grandslam" breakfast. It was well over $15 in Canadian currency. It's been sold in the U.S. for 15 years gradually increasing from $2.99 to $4.99. We saw at least a dozen signs on our drive up about the "$4.99 superslam". I had a "superbird" sandwich that cost over $11 U.S.!! Our total bill was $45.97!! For 3 people to eat a spartan lunch at fucking DENNY'S!!
Yeah, I'm writing Denny's headquarters tomorrow. They must be told..
Incidentally, other restaurants (including other ruthless "chains") all seemed to have normal prices for it's meals. What the fuck got into Denny's???
The Canadian authorities took one look at us and sent a 5 man team to search our van and everything in it. A female law-enforcement agent played "good cop" chatting with us to get into our heads. She was tickled to learn that I had a tiny part in the recent "Bikini bandits" shoot; she's a big fan of the series..GO FIGURE!!
I have a lot to relate about the lack of violence and any sign of crime, anger or bad attitudes in the tourist district. I'm still mulling over what it all meant. Did they weed out all but the most prosperous, docile looking folks at the border?? Or do people with rude manners and/or criminal tendancies simply prefer to stay in America??
Well, I'm still thinking hard on the subject.
Looks like Larry has set up for me a bookstore "reading" (with beer for me!) at a bookstore in Austin the Thursday night before C.O.S. supershow weekend. We'll post details on the label website. I've sold some books in Austin in the past..but I want to see an AWAKENING of interest in the book that would rival most Texas gospel ministries. I intend to re-claim my ancestral Texas heritage this trip..When I climb off of that plane I'm gonna kneel and kiss the pure Texas soil that my Grandpappy and HIS forbearers are all planted in. Maybe I can pickup a Texas flag..and respectfully alter my "Whiskey Rebel" gimmick?? HHHmmm??!!
8/13
Several years ago I worked at an office that was located on a busy suburban street several miles out of the city center. The job was one of the least annoying ones I've ever had. I got along with most of my co-workers for once. Everyday at lunchtime though, I had to find somewhere nearby to escape. I HAD NO INTENTION of spending my lunch hour and a half in a tiny little cramped room listening to people chitchat about their yards.
What I DID want to do was simply read a book in a quiet air-conditioned if possible environment. I searched and I searched and I bounced around from one unsatisfactory greasy spoon to the next over the months and years. Finally, I found a chinese restaurant that turned out to be PERFECT. I forget it's name.
I always took lunch as late as possible..about 1:30 pm or so. By that time, the lunch crowd was gone from this place. I was usually in time to eat at the same time that the staff did in the same booth in the corner. I always ordered EXACTLY the same thing..a porkfried rice lunch special. Everyday the same Chinese girl nodded to me in greeting, took my order..and efficiently served my meal. It was PERFECT. No interruptions! It took me about five minutes to get back to work from this place..meaning an hour and twenty minutes of peaceful reading everyday.
I wish it had gone on forever. Perhaps I never would have ever even left that town..even though I hated it..if I could count on that quiet reading period everyday.
One day though, the waitress BLEW IT.
She BLEW IT ALL TO FUCKING HELL...she may as well have served me a turd instead of fried rice. What did she do?? She greeted me with a smile instead of a nod. She made a remark about "lemme guess..porkfried rice lunch..HHMMM??". In the middle of the meal, she leaned over the table and asked me "how is it?".
She had NEVER pestered me before. Why did she choose to on that day??
Well, that was the end of my happy, magical lunchtime reading spot. I never went back.
(Note: If you can understand why, then we are kindred spirits.)
I tried another chinese place down the road. The food was crappy..the waitress picked her nose..and it was a bit noisy and too bright. But nobody ever bothered me at least. I stuck it out until after about 3 weeks the waitress noticed my pattern and greeted me leaning over the table with a big grin.."OOhh..I KNOW..you want the shrimp egg foo young special, RIGHT?"
I never went back there again even..not once.
My wife thinks I blew it at both places because I never varied my order. I don't agree. There is a "code of silence" that waiters and waitresses at Chinese restaurants spread across our great land seem to observe. That's why I'd rather go to a family owned Chinese restaurant than almost anywhere else to eat in public. Italian waiters and waitresses are chatty...they think you're a weirdo if you want to read. Italian restaurants are bad to read in. Diners can be bad too.. lots of lonely souls go there looking for someone to talk too. You can go into any diner in the U.S. at any time and see some self proclaimed "poet" doodling bad poetry on napkins. Fastfood joints like McDonalds are bad because so many bad Mothers let their kids run all over the place. 90% of the time they are TOO FUCKING NOISY.
So, there you go. One more joy..one more simple pleasure..that has been eliminated from my life over the years. Life would be great..if it weren't for other people. Wouldn't it?
8/11
Back when I was in high school a friend got the two of us a job cleaning out the drained swimming pool at a big apartment complex. It was filthy, stinky work in any weather, but it was an unseasonably hot day. The managers of the place had a retarded kid who ran around distracting and annoying us. It was a miserable fucking day to be sure.
Occasionally when working a horrid job something unexpected happens to turn the day around or at least create a moment or two of distraction from the work at hand.
On the day we cleaned the pool our day was brightened when my friend and I noticed a sign hanging near poolside:"WE DON'T SWIM IN YOUR TOILET..DON'T PEE IN OUR POOL!!".
Just a silly little irreverent phrase (probably first coined in the 1920's) can seem so funny when you're an adolescent with a Beavis and Butthead sense of humor. Every now and then something like that falls in your lap at even the crappiest job.
Many years later, my friend Eric and I were driving home from the 5th day in a row of miserable convenience store inventories in Salem Oregon. We had been forced by our asshole boss to put in twelve hour plus days commuting 150 miles round trip from Gresham to Salem while our co-workers worked 6 to 8 hour days counting nearby stores. He was trying to punish us having become falsely convinced we had reported him to the labor board (we hadn't..but we should have). We were pissed off at the boss, at the 99 degree heat, at the dust we had to inhale at the filthy stores and at ourselves for not walking off the job (though we eventually did).
Then, another bolt from the blue. A car in front of us whizzed past a car stopped on the freeway shoulder; a woman was bent over the open trunk trying to dig something up out of it. The passing car created a wind that blew the ladies dress up around her neck..exposing her totally nude legs and ass. WWHHHAAAAAAAAAAA!! We screamed like crazy pounding our fists on the dashboard like a couple teenagers half our age.
It wasn't like we saw anything we hadn't seen before..but it was a total surprise. A GIFT from the gods and the guardian angels that look after overworked, disgruntled employees who are at the breaking point.
Sometimes miracles do indeed occur when you need them the most. Religious believers attribute GOOD surprises on the job to God. I say, if god was so merciful and really cared he would have made as ALL angels who are guaranteed the pleasures of heaven without suffering through the miserys of crib death, agonizing illnesses and minimum wage deadend jobs.
What universal force was responsible for what I found walking home in the wee hours of the morning from a late inventory many years ago?? I was so depressed about being broke and miserable that I was walking with my head hung..a broken man. My eye caught a glimpse of what appeared to be a dollar bill. In fact, in turned out to be one of a PILE of dollar bills..and a few fives besides. If Jesus left it there for me, then I'd like to thank him for the nights of drinking that pile of money provided me.
Of course, it's silly and totally illogical to praise god when something good happens without blaming him for leaving a pile of dogshit to step into instead of a pile of money.
I've already stated my bottom line reasoning for being a diehard agnostic in this diary. I'm undecided over whether some unseen force exists that can work in your favor for you when you are beaten down and ready to crack.
I dunno. I DO KNOW that you can't count on everything to magically work out for the better. For everybody whose life receives an unexpected boost how many receive a final blow that sends them down for the count?? What's my karmic box score??
Without naming names, let me say that I have a few friends who are living in the lap of luxury these days. They've found a way..a trade or skill that earns them easy big bucks. They unanimously seem to believe it will last for ever.
I never argue with them. But, I know damn well that a lot of them are going to lose it all and wind up in the damned gutter. People who are on top rarely consider that their luck can run out tomorrow.
I've never received a big break in my life. I always stumbled into the wrong jobs. Any relatives likely to leave me money will probably all outlast me. Any breaks I've received have always been along the lines of funny, ironic occurences that appear just before I finally crack for good. A shitheel boss of mine (read about him in my book JOBJUMPER plug plug) being demoted thanks to my launching a kamikaze truth campaign against him. Sueing a landlord for a cleaning deposit..and WINNING.
It's always just little stuff that works in my favor..never anything big or substantial. When I do get a small break though, it keeps up my hopes maybe one day..JUST MAYBE fate will deal me a straight-flush instead of a pair of nines all the time.
8/8
I look at the cover of the TV guide...and 99% of the time I think.."who in the hell is that??"
I see adds for CDNOW ( NOTE: I once attended a CDNOW employee party) and I think.."who in the hell is that??"
I see adds affixed to buses for the latest media-push rapper...and I think..."what the fuck..what the FUCK??" (usually because of the goofy ebonic'x spellings they use in the adds).
I see a huge add affixed to the window at Hollywood video for a movie entitled "the Mexican" starring Brad Pitt and the most over-rated actress of our time julia Roberts;
No, I don't say what the fuck..I KNOW who they are. And thankfully that means I'll never be tempted to rent THAT cinematic masterpiece.
But I do wonder...neither of them are Mexican..are they?? What does it all mean??
Do I CARE?? enough to rent it???
If you think so, then log off of this diary and go bid on a "Carebears" or "Sleepless in Seattle" artifact from Ebay.
Ignorance is bliss..when it comes to being up on all the current pop icons. When I worked for TOWER records I had to know a bit about the music and movie biz..but that was a couple years ago++.
Elvis and I watched an episode of Rikki Lake today. Rikki looked like she's been gaining a lot of weight. That's OK Rikki..I'm fat too. I've worked hard on it and lost weight over the Summer..what about you Rikki?? She never left her chair the entire episode..are you pregnant, girl??
Next TV remote control stop..."Quenn Latifah" Brother Jeff Clayton's favorite daytime show. Ask him about it sometime.
Oddly enough Brother Widowmaker in Kansas is a huge "Springer" fan. Do I dare ask?? is Brother Alan King a fan of "Judge Judy" or does he merely watch his taped copies of old Montell Williams shows??
As for me I watch the "teletubbies" whenever possible. My favorite is..well, that's kinda personal. I'm not gonna reveal that publicly..but he/she/it dresses in RED..get it all you insider teletubbie-maniacs? ??
I also watch "Theodore the tugboat"..I've been trying to figure out whether the "harbor master" is an ex-member of a 60's rock band..can someone help me???
I guess I'm medium drunk as I write this. So, you can believe or disbelieve anything I have to say as you like.
But remember..Waylon Jennings one of my favorite macho country music stars sings a song to BIG BIRD in one of the Sesame street movies.
I used to have a little stuffed doggy when I was little..his name was Spiffy. I sucked my thumb until I was 9 years old. My thumb is deformed to this day..and I still keep Spiffy in a secret vault for when I really need him.
8/7
This diary is now split up into three sections since it's getting so damned big..too much to load at once. That's what's been holding me back from writing much over the last few days.
I've also turned towards concentrating on FINISHING OFF my second damn book's first draft. It's taken a long damn time to get this far and I've written a hundred pages or so of another book as well. I feel ready to finish that one too.
My long suffering shoulder tendonitis hasn't completely gone away, but I've learned (thanks to a tip from Jello) that I've been using tiny, shitty ineffective icebags to treat myself. I'm using a large frozen bag of "Birds eye mixed vegetables" which works fantastic. I wish I had tried this a year ago.
It's a very similar situation to what many athletes go through. Chipper Jones of the Braves (who I hate)and wrestlings Hugh Morrus to name a couple.
As long as the ice is working I'm gonna concentrate on banging out as much as I can. My limit before was 3 pages or so at a time..I did 7 pages the other day without my shoulder hurting.
Marla and I chalked up our 24th wedding anniversary yesterday. It brought back a few memories and questions to my mind.
Almost NOBODY who was at our wedding is alive and in touch with us. Marla's friends and my friends who were in the ceremony are long lost. In most cases it was good riddance to bad rubbish. I'd like to find my best man..my old friend Jim Wicks. I think I'm going to hire "US SEARCH" to find him.
We were married in a Lutheran church in Renton Washington (a suburb of Seattle). I raised hell by refusing to accept any of the marriage vows in the preachers book; they all required kneeling and too much prayer. I was a radical agnostic even then. Marla reminded me that we ALMOST had music provided by her Brother and a friend of his playing clarinets....OOUCCHH!! We settled on an organist playing Bach. There wer NO "special" songs like "we've only just begun" or any other such crap. My friend Jim's Father remarked it was great to attend a wedding without a lot of horsecrap. Just walk up and swap the vows.
I wore a white tuxedo. The reception was held in the backyard of my inlaws place. We opened our presents and got the hell out of their.
Oh yeah, how can I forget. At the reception Marlas youngest Sister declared she had "married the wrong guy" because I blew my top over a childish plot to "decorate" my car. Well, it's lasted longer than any of her relationships. She actually turned out to be one of the only inlaws I'd pull out of a bog of quicksand.
Wedding trivia. I didn't have time to even shave the morning of my wedding. I had to share a tiny, tiny little room with only one bed at a crappy boarding house with one of the ushers. We woke up late and almost didn't find the church.
There was no bachelor party..I didn't have enough friends. The ones I did have seemed rather embarassed.
The worst part about being married for so many years is the fact that I've missed out on having the opportunity to hang out and talk with so many women. I LIKE women. I've never been the type who was satisfied watching "Monday night football" with the guys like Al Bundy. I'd rather be gossiping with their girlfriends and wives. I appreciate very much the women in our tiny social circle who will talk to me and not treat me like some typical bonehead who mis-reads their conversation as some sort of "come-on".
Marla has a horrible time finding friends. I've probably initially been responsible for her meeting 98% of the ones she's had during our marriage. When you consider what a social retard I am that's saying something!
What's the key to staying married for 24 years??
Seriously, Marla and I have been held together more by our mutual hatred of others more than anything else. Yeah yeah yeah I'm not perfect, but as long as she bears in mind how most other guys are EVEN WORSE it keeps things in perspective.
I need to spend some more time writing about women. Even though I'm hardly ever socially permitted to talk to many I sympathize with what men put them through more than anyone suspects. No, I don't suscribe to the lunatic theorys of feminist man-haters. I simply KNOW HOW EVEN MORE FUCKED UP MOST MEN ARE than most women. I've gotten along with women at various jobs over the years much better. I can't fucking stand "super Dad's" like the guy I wrote about here a few weeks ago. Well, I don't have time to get further into it right now; maybe next time.
8/3
I am told that Joe Young from ANTISEEN once said something to the effect of "yunno, it's too bad Phil wasn't born in the South".
I totally agree. I used to be honored by the way my friends in the South treat me much like they would a fellow Son of the South. Likewise, I love Texas and have been overjoyed that on the occasions I've visited there I wasn't treated with the scorn that a lot of Northern yankee-asshole visitor's are.
Maybe the fact that I've shown my love for the South and its mighty distiller's by wearing THEE flag like a cape on stage for 13 years..maybe THAT'S why they've cut me some slack.
This has been a big year that has changed the way that I connect to my Southern "root's". After tracking down my biological parents this year I've of course learned that I don't have to merely settle for being an honorary Southerner or Texan.
My Grandpappy and Granny on my Daddy's side was a fullfledged native Texan. My old man (who lives in Alabama) described him as a roving, rambling gambling type.
I was told over the phone by my Granny from Ma's side that she was born and raised in the same county in kentucky that the "Hatfield's & McCoy's" lived and fueded in.
So, when I return to Texas a month from now for the Confederacy of Scum supershow 2001 I won't just be some schmuck from Philly..I'll be returning to declare myself a FULLFLEDGED Texan and loyal Son of Dixie.
I know full well that a lot of people who read this either HATE the South..or are afraid of it. A lot..I mean A FUCKING LOT of people up here in yankee territory look down their noses at Southern ways, Southern accents, Southern foods, etc.
Jim Bouton who wrote one of the best ever books on baseball "Ball Four" admitted in his book (he's a New Yorker) that he was unable to identify intelligence with a Southern accent.
Well, at least Bouton admitted his prejudice. I have a hard time associating intelligence with members of certain practicing religions. ALL OF THEM now that you mention it..but especially religions from Asia and the Middle East. I've gotten used to Christian's, Jew's and American Moslem's to an extent. I admit that I just haven't met the proper folks from those parts of the world perhaps.
A lot of people in our ex-hometown of Portland Oregon warned us that we would come to hate East coast people if we moved here. Well, I already hated West coast people..so we gave it a shot anyway. Philly has turned out to be the best place we've ever lived. I frankly DON'T identify with a lot of the local traditional ways. I am reminded everyday that I'm sort of a longterm "guest" here. We look different from everybody on our street; we entertain ourselves differently..eat different food and travel to different places to get away from the city.
One of the behavior patterns that really freaks me out about native Philly residents (and in case some of you are wondering this goes for whites and blacks both) is the way that they bellow like jackasses back and forth to one another in public. They talk REALLY loud. Louder than I have EVER considered talking in public. They yell across the street, from one end of the supermarket to another oblivious to all around them. They seem very relaxed when they do this.
I COULD NEVER feel comfortable broadcasting my business in a public place with strangers all around me. Don't these people know what fools they look like when they do this???
A couple days ago I was in a thrift store trying to flip through the albums. Here's what I heard coming out of a group of teenage boy's mouths.
"YO YO TOMMY...YO TOMMEEEEE!!!!"
"WHUD!!"
"YO YO..I LIKE your shoes"
"YO YO YO TOMMEEE! I LIKKKKKEEEE your shoes"
"YO DUDE....YO YO".
"WHUD!! WHUD!!"
"I LIKE your shoes"
(pause..a rare moment of silence)
"I like your SHHOOEESS!!"
(pause)
"YO YO YO..YO MO"
"WHUD!! WHUD!! WHUUHHDDD????"
"YO TOMMY..I like your SHOES!!"
This continued uninterupted for several minutes until they left the store. Believe me, I could TELL when they left the store. None of the other customers appeared to notice their LOUD fucking braying back and forth. So, it's MY problem I guess, eh??
Yeah, if they had to try to get by almost anywhere else in the US they'd have to completely relearn how to talk and behave in public. But, like most local's (and most inhabitants of most other cities) they WON'T ever have to worry about it because they will rarely leave their block..except to go "down the shore" in July and a couple trips to Disneyworld every 20 years or so.
An hour later at a beer store next to the goodwill I was treated to this next extremely loud..eardrum shattering volume level conversation from a few neighborhood guys who had apparently just gotten off work and were going fishing.
"YO YO YO!! DYOO got the ICE?? Dyoo got the ICE!! Dyoo GOT the ice??YO YO!!" (note the shift in volume level over various words in the previous sentence; it cleverly shifts the exact meaning of the phrase in subtle ways).
"He's GODD a IZE jest!"
"WHUDD??"
"YO YO YO..he's godd uhh IZE JEST!! Dude..He's GODD it!!"
"Z'NOW IZE??" (which translated means "so we don't need to purchase ice?)
"YO!"
"WHAAA?"
"Wha'dimeizzit?"
(pause..)
"WHA'DIMIZIT??!! YO! YO! YO!"
"YO!! Didja Gwall JOEEEEY?"
"Din JEW gwall im??"
"I DIN' Gwall im!"
"AAWW FUCK YEZ!"
I bet these guys think that people who talk with funny Southern accents are pretty fucking goofy. The folks I worked with in an office a few years ago here in Philly mostly talked like the guys in the beer store (although sometimes at a lower volume). I'd be forced to listen to "yew-all" and "hush my mouth" jokes when the South came up. Usually it was the occasion of an employee returning from one of their two likely lifetime trips out of the State to Disneyworld. They'd bring back horror stories of the dumb hicks they'd see in gas stations on the drive to and from home.
Marla got into a discussion with a black guy at the UHAUL storage center when we first moved here. He asked her in disbelief why anybody would move from "Orygone" to Philly. He advised her to move back.
She asked him innocently, if it's so bad in Philly..why don't YOU LEAVE??
He was obviously VERY insulted.
"Why you askin' me to LEAVE??" he said...very pissed.
Marla got out of there as fast as she could.
The one's that really take the cake are wrinkled up old broad's yammering and braying in public about their illnesses. They're fucking LOOUUDDD!!!
"I GWADD a ZORE on my toe!!"
"TONY! DON'T PICK yuh SCAB!!"
"I TREW UP! I TREW UP all NITE!!"
"HERE'S A KLEENEX...WIPE IT HERE!! YEAHH! RIGHT HERE..that's GOOD!"
"Yuh walkin' FUNNY today..are your leg's CHAFING??"
"Ohhh gwawwdd..DON'T SCRATCH yer rash TOMMY!"
The capper was an old lady Elvis encountered walking down the middle of our street one Halloween night years ago. She bawled for everyone to hear: "OH GWADD!! The Nigguz' just stole Tommy's Keeyandee!!" She ranted and raved for a minute or so like that..and paraded down the street like a town crier to spread the word to the rest of our block.
8/1
Pesky telephone solicitors have been even more persistently annoying to us than usual lately. Our phone rings and rings and rings all goddamned day. When our answering machine picks it up (we never answer the phone ourselves..we screen calls) the call is disconnected without a message being left.
That means that either a human is calling our number and hanging up repeatedly, or that an automatic dialer is doing it; I figure it's a bit of both. Sometimes a computer leaves a hokey add for us to listen to.
When I'm in a good and pissed off mood for everyday reasons I get impatient at repeated (every 15 minutes or so) calls. So, I pick up the phone to take out my bad mood on the fuckhead phone sales-asshole.
I pick up the phone and answer with a gruff "YEAH"..
The concerned, cautious salesleech will always ask for me or Marla by name.
Those of you cool enough and wise enough to own my book JOBJUMPER know that I can see through sales tricks thanks to my employment in commission sales rackets for years.
I always automatically bark "what are you selling"..totally aware that the response is going to be "I'm not SELLING anything".
Yeah..and when I sold encyclpedias across half the country door to door in 1976 whenever I was asked what I was selling I'd say the same thing. "Oh NOOO..I'm not a SALESMAN. I'm merely asking a few questions today..got a minute?"...
99% of the time I'm right. The salesdickhead will respond "oh NO!! I'm not selling anything".
"AH HAH!!! Oh yes you are..we don't deal with telephone salespeople". And for good measure I add "Don't YOU EVER call here again!!"...and I dramatically click the phone off.
It's so satisfying to blow those fucker's off..and you know what?? the constant hangup calls always end. Until the NEXT sales outfit starts hounding us.
It just so happened that today I took in the "1%" call. I snatched the receiver up after getting a few hangup calls. I was prepared to tell somebody off...for I was in a rather angered state of mind. A nervous sounding lady asked for marla by time..
I asked her what she was selling..she nervously replied that she WASN'T a salesperson. She gave her name and a generic sounding company name. I snarled at her.."YES YOU ARE! now DON'T call here again".
I went to tell Marla the joyous news that I had yelled at another phone saleszero. Marla groaned when I told her the ladies name and the name of her firm.
OOOPS! Turns out it was the GAS company. Marla had called them and waited 15 minutes on hold. The lady who called was getting back to her.
Doesn't it seem that life sometimes imitates sitcom's?
I REALLY tore into a phone sales-varmint a few months ago. I went out of my way to in fact. I actually returned the call of an automated message..I was spoiling for a fight. I was nice and syrupy until I got a sales pissant on the line. I IMMEDIATELY told him that I was SICK AND TIRED of his company leaving me messages; and for good measure I told him that I "Hope your Mom get's breast cancer!!"
I clicked the phone off.
I was still chuckling a few seconds later when the phone rang. YOU KNOW who it was.
"I don't appreciate your talking about my mother like that!!" he said..very upset. I fired back on the offensive..
"I can have you people put out of business for calling me back when I ask you not to. Put your boss on the line right now..I wanna talk to your boss"...
He answered with a hasty "click"..and a dialtone.
I usually avoid door-to-door salesmen, but when I'm in a bad mood I'll answer the door. One day I was tricked into answering a salesman's knock because I could tell through the peephole it was a guy dressed very casually. Hhmmm.
He whipped a metallic clipboard from behind his back and launched into his spiel when I opened the door.."blah blah blah".
I glanced over his shoulder and saw another guy with a clipboard working the neighbors. Very amateurish...c'mon guys. Start at opposite ends of the street. It's a dead giveaway when you let the mark at the door see another salesman. It looks like an invasion.
I held up my hand to stop the guy..
I spoke very meekly. "I'm sorry...but I'm afraid I'm not quite myself, and I can't follow what you are saying. you see, we've had a death in this house. You understand don't you"???
He apologized and left immediately.
I'd hang up a "no soliciting" sign, but I learned back in the day that only beginner salesmen are fooled off by that. True pro's (like me) interpret a "no soliciting" sign to mean "no sales-resistance". Usually the people buy them have bought them after being burned BAD in the past because they are easily fooled. A pro will happily knock on one of those doors and play the percentages.
If they bark at you "What are you selling"??
You answer back in a jolly voice "what are you buying"!
If it looks like you caught a couple engaged in sex you say..
"Hey! I didn't catch you two hosing did I?" I SWEAR I've witnessed that line working and leading to a sale. The couple is usually more embarassed than angry for reasons I don't understand.
Whiskey Rebel's Diary Archives(12/04/01 to 01/30/02)
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